Let It Go
by CoolKidConan
Summary: "And then, on the other side of the glass she sees a pair of blue eyes she hasn't seen before. She gasps. The eyes are crystal blue, like they've been forged in the deepest waters of the coldest ocean under the purest moon. They stare back at her intensely. She stares at them agape." Just a little Jelsa fic I came up with! It's all fluffy and nice, so give it a chance!


**Let It Go**

Hello! Okay, okay, so I fell for the Jelsa ship. I did. I mean, how can you not? They're just so perfect for each other! And so this came to mind when I was thinking about them, and I had to write it. Yes, yes, I know, not a very clever title. But there's really nothing that fits better than this, eh? Anyways, hope you guys like it! Reviews are super welcome and they make me very, very, veeery happy!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters, or settings.

Happy reading!

* * *

The first time she meets him, she's about eight years old, and she's been locked in the cold confinements of her room for a month. Her sister Anna has been bugging her about building a snowman, but she's determined to stay inside, worried about the damage she can cause if she opens those gigantic doors. There's still a vivid image of what happened a month ago, and it still sends a cold shock to her heart when she remembers it, how her ice struck Anna's head, how she fell motionless on the ground, how her head and body turned stone cold. Anna doesn't remember. But she does. She remembers every second of it.

They've locked the gates as a safety precaution. She thinks the only word she's heard lately is lock. Lock the gates. Lock the windows. Lock the door. Lock Elsa inside her room until she can control her powers. Lock. Lock. Lock. She's not accustomed to it yet, and she realizes she's never fully understood the entirety, the compromise that comes with the word until she's been locked for a month. Now it seems she doesn't even know what the word means, what the word used to mean. Now, it means solitude, and loneliness and dark and pain and cold. Above all else, it means cold and it means ice.

They thought locking her in would give her time, and space, and peace for her to control her powers. So far, it hasn't. So it doesn't surprise her when she notices the windows covered in white, accompanied by the sound like cracking glass. She assumes it's her own powers. It feels colder all of a sudden, colder than she has ever felt before, colder than she has ever made it feel before. But still, it doesn't surprise her.

It does surprise her, however, that something seems to be drawing itself on the frosted window. It surprises her that the shape of a smile takes form, accompanied by millions of hand drawn snowflakes and snowmen. She rises from her bed in the middle of the night and rushes to the window when she sees it. As soon as her bare hands touch the window pane it freezes, and she looks back up to the glass as she panics, in search for something that will calm her down.

And then, on the other side of the glass she sees a pair of blue eyes she hasn't seen before. She gasps. The eyes are crystal blue, like they've been forged in the deepest waters of the coldest ocean under the purest moon. They stare back at her intensely. She stares at them agape.

It's not long before the eyes are part of a whole. Cheeks appear, followed by ears and a nose, and then white hair that sticks out all around, and last a mouth that sports a grin. She doesn't know why, but she loves and hates that grin at the same time. The rest of the body forms. He –she's sure it's a boy now— is wearing a blue hoodie that's frosted with snowflakes, and beige pants. On one hand, which is white and seems like it's ice cold to the touch, as if it's made of marble, he holds a cane that bends itself at the end. His skin is pale and smooth. She gasps. The boy frowns.

He mouths something through the glass, but she can't hear him. He realizes soon, and he opens her window to make himself through. He makes his way inside as she backs away, still slightly scared of the boy, who must be around thirteen years older than her. She backs away until her little back hits the door. He steps forward a bit as he stares at her like he's inspecting her and then he lets out a cold breath and speaks.

"You can see me?" he asks. His voice is deep and mature and serious. Elsa shivers slightly at the sound, but she nods nervously. For some reason, it doesn't seem like he's going to hurt her.

And then his confused, scrutinizing frown turns into a wide smile, a grin from side to side as he shoots up in excitement and shouts ecstatic. He jumps up and down with curious ease, and Elsa stares at him with wide eyes. The boy can't stop laughing and smiling.

"You can see me!" he keeps repeating.

Elsa can't help but smile and feel relax at the boy's excitement. She watches him for a few minutes, and then decides she has to ask.

"Who are you? Why are you here?" she says, in a quiet but assertive tone. The boy settles down and looks at her and then smiles a charming smile. He crouches down to her height, and she can see snowflakes lightly imprinted in his skin, and remnants of snow on his eyelids. She likes the way he smells, like fresh grass and sun and snow and… outside. He smells like the opposite of locked.

"My name," he says, in that charming voice of his. "is Jack Frost."

Something about that name makes Elsa smile wide. She likes it. She likes the ring to it. She likes the way his lips form around the words. He makes everything look and sound like so much… What's that word she's looking for?

"Why are you here, Jack Frost?" she asks, squinting at him, as if she doesn't trust him. She doesn't want him to think she's going to trust him this easily. He chuckles brightly.

"I am here because I have a fun detector." He explains.

"A fun detector?"

_Fun. _That's a word she misses using. She almost forgot how to say it. That's the word she was looking for. She hasn't had _fun _in a very long time. She misses it. She misses it so much, and it looks like he practically lives for fun.

"Yes. It tells me when someone isn't having fun, so I can go to them and make sure they do." He explains, with a fearless smile. She crosses her arms and squints.

"I don't believe that." She says.

"Really?" he chuckles. "Well, I know you haven't had fun in a long time."

Elsa's squint turns into a surprised face.

"How do you know?" she asks in shock.

"I told you. Fun detector." He replies.

"I still don't believe it." She says, still suspicious. "But alright."

He lets out a laugh.

"What's your name?" he asks.

"Elsa."

"Well then Elsa," he says casually, as he stands up and leans against his wooden cane. "How about we have some fun now?"

Elsa's eyes grow big as she smiles, and Jack swears for a split second he can see snowflakes forming in her irises. Then her eyes go dark again.

"I can't." she says.

"Sure you can!"

"No, I can't!" she asserts, determined. Jack looks at her with a surprised face. He didn't think she could be so determined so young.

"Well why not?" he asks slowly.

"Because." she says, as an excuse.

"Because…?"

"Because it's dangerous! I have to control it. Conceal. Don't feel. Don't let it show. Conceal. Don't feel. Don't let it show." She repeats with closed eyes, as if it's a mantra she has to live by.

"Hey, hey, hey" Jack crouches back down again and holds her tiny hands in his own. She opens her eyes in surprise.

"Sometimes" he says, as a grin forms on his lips "you just have to let it go."

He makes a tiny snowman appear out of his index finger and she grins excitedly. It doesn't take her long to show him her powers. The way she builds a snowman out of thin air, or the way she can make mountains of snow appear in her own bedroom. Jack joins her, freezing the floor and twirling her as he pulls her around and makes her skate. She's laughing the entire time, and she realizes she had almost forgotten to do that. But she's enjoying every second of it, and by the time they defreeze everything, she has to catch her own breath from how much she's laughing and chuckling and giggling.

She sits on her bed and pulls her covers over her tiny body as Jack Frost sits on the end of her bed. They've been talking all the time, and Elsa feels as if she's made a friend. A friend that's like her. A friend she can trust. He stays there until she falls asleep, and when she wakes up the next morning, he's gone.

* * *

He doesn't visit her again until she turns thirteen, and by that time, she's still locked inside her room. She wants to be angry with him for not showing up in five years, for not being there when she needed him so much, for not reminding her of what fun is. She misses him so much that she starts thinking it might've all been a dream. Maybe she dreamed it all. Maybe there was never such a boy as Jack Frost.

She lives by her father's mantra. Conceal. Don't feel. Don't let it show. It's a thing she repeats when she can feel the tips of her fingers getting colder on their own. She repeats it when she feels she can't control what her own hands are doing. And every time she does, every time she closes her eyes and repeats the words, she can hear a voice, that very distinct voice from that very distinct boy, and it always says the same.

_Sometimes you have to let it go. _

It doesn't help her. But she can't help but remember them every time. And that's what makes her confident that it wasn't all a dream. That's what makes her realize Jack Frost has come back when her window glass starts turning white again two days after her thirteenth birthday.

She expects to be mad and she expects to want to shout, but when she sees those blue eyes again, all she can do is run to him and hug his waist, because he's still much taller than her. And then they spend the night talking, and laughing and giggling, and _letting it go._ She takes advantage of that, because she knows it'll be the only time she'll be able to do it. She's excited to show him how much she's improved, how much more she can do now. He tells her she can do it whenever she wants, but she reminds him she can't.

He teases her and calls her princess the entire time, because it bugs her a little bit. She sticks her tongue out at him. He laughs. But she realizes, even though he's a prankster and a joker, not everything is laughs and smiles.

"Are you scared of anything?" she asks him, when he teases her about being afraid of spiders.

He pretends to think about it and then says, "No."

She laughs, "Liar. Tell me the truth."

"Okay, if you really must know." He says, and his smile turns into a somewhat embarrassed look. "Believing. Or, not believing, rather."

"Not believing?" she asks confused.

"In me. People not believing in me." He confesses, avoiding her gaze.

There's silence for a while, as she realizes and processes the depths of his words, of his fear. And then she smiles sweetly and says,

"I believe in you. I always do, Jack Frost."

They both feel the air tense up when she says that as they gaze into each other's eyes. She decides to lower the tension with humor.

"Even when you show up five years too late!" She makes a snowball in her hand and throws it at him. He acts offended and they start a snowball fight.

And then when she falls asleep and wakes up the next morning, he's gone again. She leaves the window open for a year after that just in case.

* * *

It takes him five more years to come back and visit, and this time, she's not only mad at him, she's also been crying her eyes out. She's just lost her parents to a sea storm, and she's been feeling lonelier than ever. And she knows Anna has been too, when she hears her knock silently on the door. But she can't bring herself to open it. She still can't. Conceal. Don't feel. Don't let it show.

She's realized, in these five years, she hasn't stopped thinking about him for a second. It's not just his voice any more. She sees his face in her sleep, and she can see his smile every time she closes her eyes. There's a burning feeling in her heart every time she finds herself unconsciously mouthing or whispering his name. She wonders what these feelings are.

She's still locked in her room that night when he frosts the window glass. It's become his thing now. But this time, she doesn't run to him when he steps inside. She just looks at him from her spot on the bed, where she's hugging her knees tightly and crying. And when he sees her like that, the grin he's sporting drops and he practically rushes to her side, asking with a concerned tone what's wrong with her.

She practically explodes. She shouts at him, angry for leaving her behind without a reason why. She scolds him for giving her hope and taking it away, for leaving when she needed him so much all these years. He remains quiet and takes it all with low eyes, as she screams and shouts and cries. She tells him about her parents in the midst of her rant, and he feels the impulse of hugging her. He doesn't. He lets her scream and shout and cry, because he feels she needs it. She needs it more than a hug.

That night, they don't build anything. They don't make it snow. They don't freeze the floor and skate. They talk. She screams. She cries. He tries to comfort her. He never explains why he leaves and doesn't come back. She knows he has his own troubles. He's told her about them before. But right now, she needs to put his troubles besides. She feels selfish. She knows she is.

It's the longest night they've stayed up together, and this time, she sees him off when he leaves. She's still mad at him, but the way they stare at each other silently before he flies off sends her heart pumping at irrational speed. They're just standing there, him just outside her window.

"Close it." He says in reference to the window, one of the only times he's talked that night. "It's cold out here."

She shrugs and then shakes her head. She's still mad, but she hopes he isn't. "It never bothered me anyways."

He offers her one last smile before he lifts off. When she goes back to sleep, she's not crying anymore. And the window is still open.

* * *

The night of coronation day is the time she hears his voice the most. It nearly burns inside her head as she trots through the snowy mountains. She doesn't even try to repeat her mantra. One of her gloves is off, and she can feel the cutting air against her cheeks and her face. She hears him encourage her from the back of her head. No, from the back of her heart, she realizes. And so, she does it. She lets it go.

She builds an ice castle where nothing is ever locked. Because she knows that locks mean loneliness and solitude. It's only when she finishes building it that she realizes even her own palace, her own, open and never-locked palace, is no barrier for being alone.

It's been three years since he last came to visit, and she hasn't seen him ever since. She's not quite mad at him anymore, and she really hopes he's not mad at her. She's had three years to think about that boy, and now she's about as old as he always seems to be. He told her once he was so old he had lost count. She still misses him. Time has given her the ability to look back on that boy, on those things she felt when he was next to her, when he listened to her, when he dragged her around her iced floor and made her laugh and giggle when no one else could. She realizes, now, it might've been love. It might still be love.

She hears a sound like scraping on ice and turns around violently one night. She knows there's been a similar sound before for the past thirteen years, and she knows what comes after it. Her heart feels like it's blooming, expanding, growing, and she can't help but involuntarily smile as her excitement grows.

"Jack?" she calls out, ushering him to come out of his hiding place. "Jack, is that you?"

But nothing happens, and no one comes out.

* * *

She freezes the floor for everyone when she returns to Arendelle to properly celebrate her coronation. She's opened the gates and windows and doors for everyone. Now she's sure no one will ever feel lonely. She drags Anna around the snow, forcing her to skate, as she sees Olaf and Kristoff and Sven in the background, skating around and trying not to fall. Everyone is laughing and giggling and having fun, and she's forced back to her nights in her room, where she used to be the one dragged around by him. _Him._ She hasn't seen him yet, and each day she misses him more and more. She misses him in ways she's never missed him before. Now she's certain. It's definitely love. And she tells herself, if he loves her, if he's ever so much as felt a little bit of love for her, he'll show up again one day. Eventually. She wants him to. She wants to show him how she finally let it go.

She pushes Anna towards Kristoff with a chuckle and he catches her. She needs to be alone for a while. She sends the couple a grin and excuses herself saying she's fine. No one realizes she's really not. No one except Anna. But Anna always notices.

She walks off the ice and into the palace. She walks through the corridors and the hallways until she reaches giant white doors and gently pushes one of them to let herself in. She glances at the bedroom inside, lit dark, and walks around. And then all of a sudden, she feels cold. She looks at her hands and discovers she's fine. She's not causing the cold. And so she hears the sound of lightly cracking glass and looks up at her window with hope filling her heart. A picture of a crown is drawn on the frosted glass.

It doesn't take long for him to appear again, sporting his confident grin and casually reclining on his wooden cane. She looks at him in shock. He can't help but think she looks exactly like she did the first time they met. Except now she looks so… beautiful.

"Hey" he breathes nervously. He doesn't think he's blushing, but he might be wrong. "Queen."

She chuckles and rushes to him, hugging him tightly like she's never hugged him before. "Idiot" she says against his hoodie.

He chuckles in her hair and hugs her back. They stay like that for a while.

"I let it go." She says finally, her words slightly muffled by his shoulder. Then she moves her head back to stare into his eyes. "I let it go." She repeats.

He grins at her. "You let it go."

"You were there, weren't you? At the ice palace." She asks. He tries to lower his gaze but she forces it up.

He breathes, "I was always here, Elsa."

And she realizes, he was. He never left. She let him go. He was in the ice that flowed out of her hands. He was in the snowmen and the snowflakes, and the tiny ice sculptures. He was in the frost, and the snow, and the ice palace. He was always there. He never left.

This time, she holds his hand and leads him out to the skating rink she's created, and she's the one to tug him around and twirl him. They're laughing and they're giggling like they used to. She introduces him to Anna and Kristoff and Olaf and Sven. He looks baffled but happy.

This time, she doesn't think he's leaving. Neither does he.


End file.
